In Need
by Maverick88
Summary: He was such a constant factor in her life with his dimpled I'm-always-alright smiles that sometimes she failed to look beyond that.


**Title:** Have your back

**By:** Maverick88

**Disclaimer:** I don't own rookie blue. Though I sure wish I could have Ben Bass. Yummy!

**Author's Note:** This is my first RB fanfic. I haven't written anything in a while and English is not my first language, so be gentle (but honest!) I wrote this before I saw 2x05, so my version of Luke may be a bit off because of that. Enjoy and please let me know what you think!

* * *

><p>Sam's head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.<p>

"What is it? Got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

He glared at Andy, but couldn't keep up the act for long, not while his eyes were practically blinded by that megawatt smile. But he knew that though the coffee cup she had in her hand was for him, the smile was actually meant for the golden boy standing in the corner. Luke Callaghan was recovering quite nicely, despite liver and kidney damage and one hell of a scar from the laparotomy.

The shooting had shook him up and taken some of the harshness out of his character, making him a more pleasant person for everyone to deal with_. 'Guy just discovered the value of life,' _Sam mused as he watched Luke make his way over to Andy and him, only the slight hunch in his posture betraying what had transpired a month earlier.

"Hey Sam, Andy," the detective greeted them, though his eyes never strayed from his fiancée's face. It had taken Sam a while to accept it, get used to the fact that Luke actually did love Andy and that they were happy together. During the first stages of recovery, they'd hit a rough patch, Luke being too impatient to let his body heal and Andy too eager to cheer him up. Now that he was almost back to his old self, their equilibrium seemed to have stabilized again. Still, that didn't mean Sam wasn't bitter at times. When Luke finally looked at him, he cocked his head to the side the same way Andy had done moments earlier, eyes narrowing while he gave Sam a once over. "You alright?"

Sam nodded quickly, before taking a gulp of coffee. "I'm always alright." He smiled his trademark smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Besides, shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one recovering from an abdominal bullet wound." The blonde grimaced, shaking his head. "There is that." Still no good at small talk, Luke quickly moved on to brief them on a new case. There had been a stabbing incident and they needed to find witnesses.

**##**#####################****

The pounding in Sam's head had settled into a steady rhythm and he fought the urge to roll down his window for some fresh air. He was pretty sure Andy wouldn't appreciate the downpour of water getting into the car.

"He's grateful, you know," Andy's voice cut through the silence. He wracked his brain for anything he'd done worthy of praise. He came up with nothing. "For what?"

"Saving him. If it weren't for you he'd be dead." Sam stepped on the brakes for the red traffic light, grateful for its existence for first time in his life because it allowed him to fully focus on her. "Andy, we've been over this before. You were in shock, anyone would have been. I was just following procedures. You should be thanking the paramedics and the surgeons at the hospital, not me."

"You kept it together, like _I_ should have done." The bitterness in her voice didn't go unnoticed. She put on a happy front for everyone, but Sam knew she blamed herself a great deal for what had happened. He had told her countless of times that she had no one to blame but the guy who did it, but he could see that repeating that speech wasn't going to help any more than it did 10 times ago.

He shot a quick look at the traffic light, its red color blurry and deformed by the rain that beat down relentlessly on the windshield. The frequency at which it hit the glass mimicked his building headache and he grimaced. Nicola Tesla's earthquake machine was working at full capacity and Sam was pretty sure his skull could shatter at any moment. He blinked a couple of times before resting his gaze on Andy again. She was hurting and she needed him. He just had to ignore his throbbing head and focus on what really mattered. Taking a deep breath, he began.

"The first time I was faced with a life and death situation, I didn't do so great."

He forced himself to look away from her glossy chestnut eyes.

"My partner was shot when he tried to arrest a gang member. Bullet came out of nowhere and one moment I was following a veteran officer into what was supposed to be a regular bust, the next he was on the ground. It was a sucking chest wound shot from a sawed off shotgun. He was drowning in his own blood. I had to help him but at the same time I was afraid of being gunned down myself. I was literally paralyzed with fear and it took a while for me to snap out of it. I'd learned what I needed to do but I had a total blackout that night. He died in my arms on the cold ground and I will never know if he could have been saved if I hadn't frozen and followed the procedures."

Old wounds bled fresh when torn open, so he kept his attention focused on the road in front of him as traffic started to move again. It didn't help that instead of offering a useless apology for something she didn't do, Andy gently placed her hand on his shoulder in a silent gesture of support and comfort. He was very aware of her touch, the way it made the nerve endings in his arm tingle like nothing else could. He probably imagined it lasting longer than it did.

"How do you do it?" she whispered after a while and her voice sounded tired.

He could play clueless, ask her what she meant like he wasn't totally tuned into her every word and gesture, but decided against it. "I don't. It still hurts as much as it did that day. The difference between then and now is that I don't allow myself to wallow in guilt anymore. I like to think that my old partner would be pissed off if I screwed up my life because then it would be two lives wasted instead of one. I told myself that every day until I started to believe it."

There was more to it than that, a darker truth that he wasn't willing to share and he was sure it was better that he kept it for himself. When she stayed silent, he finally dared to look at her and saw her eyes were filling up with unshed tears. "It'll take quite some time, but you'll be able to do it," he assured her, his heart aching when he added: "Luke knows he's gotten a second chance at life, so make something out of it."

God, he wished he wasn't such a nice guy. He wished he didn't love her so much that he'd rather see her happy with another guy than not seeing her at all. He looked away before she could see it on his face.

"Since we're already knee deep in painful subjects, let's interview the victim's family and see if we can get any leads." She seemed surprised that they'd already reached their destination and kept looking at him with those damn unblinking eyes. Anger boiled up again and he wanted to strangle someone, preferably that bastard who caused this mess in the first place.

Clearing his throat he reached for the umbrella on the back seat and handed it to her.

"Go ahead. Wouldn't want your perfectly neat braid getting all tangled up," he joked, though the air was still heavy from the emotional admission he'd shared earlier. Andy gave him her best impression of a spoiled brat's glare and he laughed, relieved to see her playing along. Fake it till you make it. They were a good team.

**##**#####################****

It was after the 3rd witness interview that he noticed something was wrong. The way his muscles had started to ache, how his mind started to get all jumbled up and he wasn't asking any follow up questions like he should be doing.

Andy didn't seem to notice. She had her laser sights set on the case. Distracting herself from what was bothering her had always been her first defense mechanism, he knew from experience. He even had to reign her in a couple of times when she started popping away questions at the speed machine guns spewed bullets. He was happy she was so sharp because his attention span started to resemble that of Dory from Finding Nemo.

Words seemed to flow into each other like a garbled mess of vowels and sounds. He ran his hands over his face, hoping to clear his mind. It didn't. The air was just so muggy. He felt hot, clausterfobic. The idea of getting back outside with the rain splashing on his face suddenly seemed very appealing. But one look at Andy and he knew they were going to be here for a while. The victim's sister seemed intent in sharing every little detail of that fateful night. Normally he'd welcome it but now he couldn't wait for it to be over.

"Excuse me, can I use the bathroom?"

The victim's mother, a charismatic woman with black curls and sharp brown eyes gave him a knowing look before giving him the directions. The bathroom was small, but immaculately cleaned, much like the rest of the house. The whole family somehow seemed to stand out from the neighborhood, being well dressed and more educated. Sam distantly wondered if it this was what cost the victim his life. A mugging gone wrong? Pain flared up behind his eyes and he decided to leave the thinking part to Andy and her work-a-holic fiancee.

He splashed cold water in his face but nothing alleviated the never ending headache and the blistering heat radiating from his body. He was so tired. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the sides of the sink for support. He just needed a few precious seconds to get his act back together.

When his ears picked up movement from the living room, he quickly dabbed his face with a towel and pushed himself towards the door. He hoped he could make it to the car without keeling over.

_'Don't live up to the stereotype of the typical man who acts like getting the sniffles means the word is coming to an end,' _he berated himself and slowly made his way through the living room, masking his screwed up coordination by subtly using the furniture for support. Andy was still talking to the sister and Sam could see her scribbling a number on a piece of paper. "Call me if you think of anything else, okay?" The genuine concern in her voice warmed his heart. The woman nodded tearfully and they said their courtesy goodbyes.

**##**#####################****

"Here, you drive," he said as soon as the door had closed. He handed her the keys and enjoyed the slight widening of her eyes. He was a stubborn bastard when it came to driving and it was being like this that earned him the cheeky smile thrown his way. That alone made it worth it. Without a word, she bolted to the car, holding the umbrella as if it warded off bullets instead of raindrops. He on the other hand took his time, but the rain wasn't as cold as he'd hoped.

"You're in a generous mood today, Sam," Andy stated giddily before turning the key in the ignition. She drove off quickly, bolstered by the distraction driving and the witness' stories provided. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Andy was a thinker and though that quality often presented itself negatively it was an asset at times like these. She was quick at making connections and providing new vantage points to view a case from.

"Yeah, well enjoy it for as long as it lasts," he muttered. He encouraged her to share her theories on the case and by concentrating on her voice, his headache started to move to the background. True clarity never came though because the heat in the car was making him drowsy. Sleep tugged at him and it didn't take long for he gave in and let his head rest against the seat.

"Sam, if you're not interested…" The spike of anger in her voice had him peel open his eyes again. "I am, I swear."

"You almost fell asleep!" Her voice made his ears ring and he winced.

"You drive slow." The words rolled out slowly, like glue.

"I do not!" It was ironic how easy she grabbed the bait, despite being a fairly intelligent woman. A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Besides, we're the police, we need to adhere to the rules," she stated matter-of-factly, like a schoolgirl reading from a textbook.

"Sure we do," he mumbled, already closing his eyes again. Only for a minute, he told himself. He felt her hand grab his roughly, and he guessed she was probably fully intent on shaking him awake. Her palm felt cool to the touch. She recoiled quickly, as if burned. He then felt her hand touching his forehead gently, all signs of anger gone.

"Sam? Are you okay?" There was a slight quiver in her voice. He met her gaze, hating it when she was worried. "Sure I am. I'm just a bit tired, that's all." If that was supposed to relieve her, it didn't. "You're burning up!" she accused.

"I've been worse." He retorted weakly, already not liking where this was going.

"You have to see a doctor!" She touched his face again, fingers grazing his forehead and cheeks.

"It's just the flu, McNally. Now please concentrate on the road before I regret my decision to let you drive." He really didn't want to get snippy with her but her touch had awakened something he'd worked hard to bury and he wasn't about to go down that path again. She clenched her jaw and complied, but he could sense her casting a worried glance his way every few seconds.

"You should have seen me 3 weeks ago. Had a fever so high it made me hallucinate. It was fun seeing walls disappear and other stuff pop up. This is nothing." He chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood, but it had the opposite effect.

"I didn't know you were sick," she said in a small voice, Bambi eyes in full effect.

He shrugged and closed his eyes again. "You were with Luke." As if that explained everything. But then, it did.

"I'll take you home, okay?" Her voice was soft, full of guilt.

"I still need to report to Best," he sighed, his resolve was faltering.

"Don't worry, I'll deal with it."

**#####################**

"Sam, we're here." She gently nudged him awake. She almost felt bad for doing it. He looked so peaceful asleep. She watched him as he stretched like a cat, eyes slowly taking focus.

"Thanks McNally." His voice was still groggy from sleep. "I'll see you tomorrow." He reached for the door handle when she gripped his shoulder. "Not so fast, I'm coming along with you." He turned his head, giving her that slightly dangerous, crooked smile she liked so much. "You're going to tuck my bed in, McNally?"

"No, I just need to use the bathroom."

"Oh."

**#####################**

She'd lied of course. She tagged along because she wanted to make sure he was okay. '_You didn't care enough to see how he was 3 weeks ago, why now?_' the little voice in the back of her head spoke up and she bit her lip. He was such a constant factor in her life with his dimpled I'm-always-alright smiles that she never stopped to look beyond that. _So much for having his back._ But then, she had been worried about Luke.

"Bathroom is on your right," Sam cut through her reverie, pushing past her to the living room, not bothering to flip the light switch. He peeled off his uniform and discarded it without second thought. Andy recalled the first time he'd undressed in front of her and noticed he'd gotten thinner, leaner. She hadn't realized she was staring until he turned around and caught her eye. She retreated and closed the bathroom door quickly, berating herself for being so sloppy. She was just worried, that's all.

When she came out she found him dressed in a black T-shirt and comfortable sweatpants, making tea in the kitchen. She could tell by the slight slump in his shoulders and his overall posture that he was dead tired and only doing it out of courtesy. Another pang of guilt swept through her.

"Sorry, I still need to get groceries," he remarked sheepishly before downing a couple of aspirins with water.

"You need to get some sleep," she pointed out and touched his forehead again. It felt clammy and he closed his eyes, swaying slightly under her touch. "Come on," she whispered, putting an arm around his waist for support. She saw him stiffen. "You shouldn't be this close to me, you might catch it yourself."

He barely said it and almost lost his balance. Andy tightened her grip, trying not to focus on the strength of those muscles underneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt. He was literally brimming with heat and his eyes were glassy, yet of course he was looking out for her—again.

"Don't worry about me getting sick. It would have happened already."

She took as much of his weight as he would allow while they shuffled towards the bedroom. It was dark, reminiscent of the way it had been during the night of the blackout. Andy swallowed hard, mentally pushing the memory back into to the recesses of her mind. Her life was complicated enough.

Sam didn't complain or object when she helped him into bed, nor did he make any playful remarks when she covered him with the blanket and hovered over him like a mother hen. The lack of sarcasm had her worried. Sam only let his guard down when something was seriously wrong. She rushed towards the kitchen and returned with a wet cloth and dabbed his face with it. His eyes were closed but he did turn his head towards her.

"Sam?" She whispered, barely able to control the tremor in her voice. His eyelids fluttered open and obsidian orbs looked back at her.

"Aren't you supposed to be at Luke's?" He was doing it again, pushing her away. "He's your fiancée, he's recovering from a bullet. I'm just a fellow cop. No need to worry…about me."

"You're more to me than a 'fellow cop', Sam."

She noticed he'd started shivering slightly. She kneeled down next to the bed and took his hand, running her fingers up his arm. He had goose bumps, even though his core temperature seemed to match that of the sun.

"Then…what am I?" he asked and this time he couldn't hide the tremor that went through his body. Andy bit her lip. In all honesty she didn't know how to answer.

"You're number #2 on my speed dial."

"What does that mean?"

"That you're pretty damn important."

"Who's number #1?"

She shook her head at the question. She couldn't blame him for his boldness, not really. She knew the fever was doing this to him.

"My dad. Trace is number #3." She replied honestly. He seemed content with that. Then he turned around on his side, teeth chattering.

"Sam, what can I do?" she asked, feeling helpless. With his sharp dark eyes closed he looked impossibly young and vulnerable, like a lost boy.

"Can't…ask…"

"Of course you can, that's what partners are for!" she shot back a bit too loudly and she saw him wince.

"This is not what I ask of partners."

She was only getting more curious now. When she was about to tell him to get to the point, her cellphone vibrated. She flipped it open. _Luke. _

"Golden boy, I presume," he guessed, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"Sorry, I have to take this," she mumbled and walked back to the living room.

Turned out Luke was working late on a case, which was very convenient for her. She spun a story about being called by her dad to help a distant aunt with the plumbing and that she would stay the night there. _"I thought you weren't technical," _he reacted skeptically and she cleared her throat. "One of my many hidden talents, dear," she drawled, masking her lie. She was a terrible liar. But Luke seemed to buy the flimsy story regardless. She made a mental note to ask Sam about the basics of plumbing later incase Luke decided to quiz her on the subject.

When she returned Sam was still trembling. "I told Luke I'm staying somewhere else, so tell me what I can do."

He opened up his eyes, surprise in those dark depths. "Are you staying here?"

"Yes, silly. It's not like I've got a better place to be."

It wasn't like him to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he did it anyway. "McNally, I don't want you staying here because you feel obligated to."

"I'm here because I want to be, Sam." She said solemnly, surprised by her own determination.

Sam nodded while slowly processing this. Then he realized something.

"But the couch is too small for you." He said, trying to prop himself up on one elbow. He was not going to let her stiffen up on that old sofa. He would just get a blanket and sleep there himself.

"Woah, what do you think you're doing?" Suddenly Andy's hands were on his chest, pushing him back down, though the intensity of that stare she gave him was what really kept him there. "We're adults, right? The bed is big enough for the both of us. That way I can keep and eye on you and no one has to wake up with a sore back."

"You sure you want to do that?" he asked and his voice had taken on an edge. "The last time you were here you regretted it." She knew immediately what he was referring to. "I've been ill plenty of times, it's not like a little fever is going to kill me," he tried again.

To be honest, she didn't know why she'd insisted on staying with him. She felt like a bulimic who just gave into a binge. She'd been avoiding Sam for months now, steering conversation into safe, work related territory. It was only after Luke's injury that she started opening up again a bit and sharing things with him like she used to. He knew about the dark side of life and understood her struggles better than Traci did. She'd been leaning on him in order to deal with the situation and now she didn't know how to get back from that. Maybe it was all a big mistake…and he was offering her a way out. She made up her mind.

"Before I got the call, you wanted to ask me something. What was it?"

"Nothing." His eyes were guarded again. She crossed her arms and glowered at him. Damn him and his stubbornness, even if it reminded her of herself. She waited, knowing he would give in eventually, if the pasty white color of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes were any indication.

'I'm just…so cold." He finally whispered and she had to strain her ears to hear. Without further thought she kicked off her shoes and crawled under the covers next to him. She was so going to regret this in the morning. But as she curled up against him, both taking comfort in having a warm body close, regret was one of the last things in her mind.

"I'm sorry I let you down before, Sam," she murmured.

For a while it seemed Sam wasn't going to respond, though the increased pounding of his heart told her the words did have an impact.

"Remember what I told you about how I deal with…tragedy?" She nodded, even though her back was facing him. His strong arms were wrapped around her, keeping her close.

"I left out something. For me, what helped the most was having something else to focus on. Something that was either painful or brought me joy."

She turned around and faced him.

"Guns and Gangs used to fill that void." He paused briefly. "Then you came along."

"What did I bring you, Sam? Pain or joy?" His face was so close she could almost taste his minty breath.

"Both."

She knew it was true but she didn't know what to say to that. Sparing her the effort, he planted a short kiss on her forehead and gestured for her to turn around. She rolled back on her other side and snuggled closer to him. Questions and guilt consumed her and she swallowed hard. Sam gently squeezed her hand. "Go to sleep," he whispered against her hair, "we both need it."

She wanted to set an alarm so she could make it to her house in time tomorrow, but she didn't because being here felt like she was already home. She would have to figure out what that meant eventually, but not now. The steady rhythm of Sam's heartbeat carried her to a place where nothing was complicated and for the first time in months, Andy had a solid night of sleep.

The End.

* * *

><p><strong>Like it? Hate it? Please review and let me know! Your opinions mean a lot to me!<strong>


End file.
